• •-^•niAtloiial Copyrighted (in England, her Colonies, an^ 
i States) Edition of tho Works of the Best Authors 
PS 3507 »......,••••••••••••••••••••••••• 

.E542 

F6 No. 281 

1920 ---_-_— —--^--— -——---— -—— 

Cppy 1 ''FOOD'' 



A TRAGEDY OF THE FUTURE 
f n 9nc Bet 



BY 
WILLIAM C. de MILLE 



Copyright,- 1914, by A. G. de Mills 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

CAUTION. -AmaUani uid Protoaeienala ar* haraby warmd that 
*' FOOD,'* bains IuIIt prataetad undar tha caprrtghC lawa af tka 
United Stetaa, ia aubjae< ta roTAltT* and any ana praaantlnf tha 
play withaut tha canaant ^t tha authar ar hia authariaad aSant 
will ba liabla ta tha panaltias by law pravldad. All appUoatiana 
far amataur parfarmaneaa af " FOOD " muat ba mada te SAMUEL 
FRENCH, 28-30 Waat Sath Straat. Naw Yark. 



PRICE 30 CENTS 



Nbw York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 38th STREET 



London 
SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton Stbmt 

STRAND 



^1 



billeJted. 

A comedy in 3 acts, by F. Tennison Jesse and H. Harwood. 4 males, 
5 females. One easy interior scene. A charming comecfy, constructed 
with uncommon skill, and abounds with clever lines. Margaret Anglin 
big success. Amateurs will find this comedy easy to produce and popular 
with all audiences. Price, 60 Cents. 

NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH. ' 

A comedy in 3 acts. By James Montgomery. 5 males, 6 females. Cos- 
tumes, modern. Two interior scenes.^ Plays 2^ hours. 

Is it possible to tell the absolute truth— even for twenty-four hours? It is — 
at least Bob Bennett, the hero of "Nothing But the Truth," accomplished the 
feat. The bet he made with his business partners, and the trouble he got into— 
with his partners, his friends, and his fiancee— this is the subject of William 
Collier's tremendous comedy hit. "Nothing But the Truth" can be whole-heartedly 
recommended as one of the most sprightly, amusing and popular comedies that 
this country can boast. Price, 60 Cents. 

IN WALKED JIMMY. 

A comedy in 4 acts, by Minnie Z. Jaffa. 10 males, 2 females (although 
any number of males and females may be used as clerks, etc.) Two 
interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Plays 2^ hours. The thing into 
which Jimmy walked was a broken-down shoe factory, when the clerks 
had all been fired, and when the proprietor was in serious contemplation 
of suicide. 

Jimmy, nothing else but plain Jimmy, would have been a mysterious figure 
had it not been for his matter-of-fact manner, his smile and his everlasting 
humanness. He put the shoe business on its feet, won the heart of the girl 
clerk, saved her erring brother from jail, escaped that place as a permanent 
boarding house himself, and foiled the villain. 

Clean, wholesome comedy with just a touch of human nature, just a dash of 
excitement and more than a little bit of true philosophy make "In Walked Jimmy" 
one of the most delightful of plays. Jimmy is full of the religion of life, the 
religion of .happiness and the religion of helpfulness, and he so permeates the 
atmosphere with his "religion" that everyone is happy. The spirit of optimism, 
good cheer, and hearty laughter dominates the play. There is not a dull moment 
in any of the four acts. We strongly recommend it. Price, 60 Cents. 

MARTHA BY-THE-DAY. 

An optimistic comedy in three acts, by Julie M. Lippmann, author of 
the "Martha" stories. 5 males, 5 females. Three interior scenes. Cos- 
tumes modern. Plays 2^ hours. 

It is altogether a gentle thing, this play. It is full of quaint humor, old- ' 
fashioned, homely sentiment, the kind that people who see the play will recall 
and chuckle over tomorrow and the next day. 

Miss Lippmann has herself adapted her very successful book for stage service, 
and in doing this has selected from her novel the most telling incidents, infectious 
comedy and homely sentiment for the play, and the result is thoroughly delightful. 

Price, 60 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 






*TOOD'* 



A TRAGEDY OF THE FUTURE 

Ifn One Bet 



WILLIAM C. de MILLE 



Copyright, 1914, by A. G. de Millb 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



CAUTION.— Amateurs and Professionals are hereby warned that 
'*FOOD,** being fully protected under the copyright laws ot the 
United States, is subject to royalty, and any one presenting the 
play without the consent of the author or his authorized agent 
will be liablo to the penalties by law provided. All applications 
for amateur performances ot " FOOD " must be made to SANUEL 
FRENCH, 28 30 West 38th Streot, New York. 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 38th Street 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 



P53 507 

\C|ZO 



" FOOD.'* 



CHARACTERS. 



Basil A New Yorker, 

Irene His Wife, 

Harold An Officer of The Food Trust. 



Scene : — Basil's home in New York City. 
Time ; — Fifty years from now. 






*'FOOD." 

COSTUMES. 
Basil : — Business suit. ^ 

Hat. 

Gloves. 

Overcoat. 

Irene:— Soft, clinging tea gown. 

Harold : — Military uniform. 

LIGHTS. 

No changes. Full white and amber. 

Scene:— An ordinary room, furnished with rich 
plainness. 

Doors L. I and R. 3. 
Windows at back. 
Table R. c, with two chairs. 
Small table, with chair against l. wall, above 
door. 

Chair l. of food safe. 
Small rug, c, on curtain line. 
Side board at rear, to R, of windows. 
At back, L., of windows, is a refrigerator, made 



I 



^ " FOOD." . 

to look rather like a safe, with heavy iron 

hinges, a large combination lock, etc. 

Fre place and fire,R. i, if possible, but not 

necessary. 

" PROPS." 

1. 2 tables (i small one for telephone) 

2. 4 chairs 

3. Small rug 

4. 5/cf^ ^oarJ 

5. Refrigerator (to look like safe) 

6. Telephone \ 

7. Fireplace and )?r^ (if possible) 

8. C/i^c^ hook 

9. 5/w^ enevelope and &/w^ />a/'^r (for grocer's 

bill) 

10. Fountain pen 

1 1. 2 /a^/^ covers (a white one, for centre table, for 

meal) 

12. 2 plates 

13. 2 /or^^ 

14. 2 glasses 

15. I platter 

16. I carving knife and /or^ 

17. Carafe of ze/a^^r 

18. Small />/2ia/ of fwi/^ 

19. Medicine dropper (to be kept in bottle instead 

of cork) 

20. A cracker 

21. 2 ^^^J (one for case, another to keep in the 

jewel-case) 

22. A leather case 

23. Revolver and holster 

24. Small package, to look like slice of bread 

wrapped up 

25. Paper to sign as Harold's receipt 

26. Jewel-box and jewels 



"FOOD." 



Ai Rise: — Irene is discovered sitting at fable, R. 
c, writing a check. There is a blue envelope 
and paper in front of her. 
She is a young woman, about 25, but very thin, 
Basil enters l. i, wearing hat and coat. He is 
a man of about 30, or 35; also very thin. He 
comes and kisses her. 

Basil. Hello, dear! (crossing to her, kisses her, 
crosses to chair l. of food safe, takes off coat, etc.) 

Irene. Why, Basil — you're home early — 
{noticing check) Oh, Pshaw! I've done it again. 
{tears up check) 

Basil. Done what? 

Irene. Written the wrong date. I can't get it 
Into my head that this is nfneteen sixty-two after 
writing nineteen sixty-one for a whole year, {starts 
to write another check) 

Basil. What's the check for? 

Irene, (very seriously) The — the grocer's bill, 
Basil 

Basil. (7'ery serious — pausing — crossing to 
front of chair L. of table R. c.) Oh — I — I see^ 
(picks up bill — sits — reads it — then cheers up a bit) 
\Vhy. It*s not as large as last month. 

Irene. No, it's less than six thousand dollars • 

Basil, (scrutinizing items) Yes — five thousand 
S 



€ -FOOD.*' 

eight hundred and sixty-seven dollars and forty- 
four cents — what's the forty-four cents? {rather 
stern manner and tone) 

Irene, (ashamed) Four grains of sugar 

Basil, (lays bill on table — rises — crossing l. — 
in light reproof) We must be careful about sugar, 
dear. 

Irene, (in pained explanation)^ I've tried to be, 
Basil — (rises — takes pen and check book with her — 
crosses across to him l.) and really — the bill is not 
much — when you consider how food has gone up. 

Basil, (in happier, lighter tone) Anyhow, we 
must live — and I'm as hungry as a wolf — let's have 
dinner now 

Irene. Half an hour early ? 

Basil. I'm awfully hungry 

Irene, (crossing to side board) All right — 
(pointing to food safe) Open the food safe — will 
you, dear — (Irene at side board arranging plates 
together, platter on top, with forks and carvers on 
platter — starts over to table — Basil opening door of 
safe, burglar alarm, (bell) rings — Irene starts) 1 
always forget, that burglar alarm! (Basil reaches 
behind safe and turns off burglar alarm) 

Irene (setting table) What brings you home so 
early to-day, dear ? 

Basil, (crossing from safe to table) I'm on the 
Jury. We just finished a case, (seats himself r. of 
table) A very sad one, too. A man was being 
tried for killing a hen. 

Irene, (shocked, at the word " hen " drops fork 
on plate with noise) Oh, the beast ! 

Basil. Yes — His only excuse was that his 
family was starving — He was found guilty 

Irene, (pausing setting table — looking at him in 
reproach) And you — helped sentence him — to 
death? 

Basil. There was nothing else to do — (Irene 
goes to side hoard gets carafe and 2 glasses, back 



" FOOD." 7 

to table) Don't you understand — he killed a hen — 
(Irene starts) killed it in cold blood — a man who 
can do that deserves no pity 

Irene, {coming over from side hoard — filling 
glasses) But his family 

Basil. Oh, you women — are so sentimental — 
(Irene takes carafe up to side board, leaves it — gets 
platter — starts with it toward safe) have you for- 
gotten that the hen is the fowl who lays eggs? 

Irene, {reels — half fainting) Eggs — Oh! 

Basil. Irene! {springs to feet — goes hurriedly 
[o her, around chair r. of table) What's the matter? 

Irene, {recovering — avoiding help) Nothing — ■ 
nothing, dear — I'm better now — but, wait a minute 
I've a treat for you to-night — {continues to safe-^ 
Basil returns to table and seats himself in chair r., 
expectantly. Irene opens safe, takes out cracker — • 
lays it on platter — bears it over to table triumph-- 
antly) 

Basil, {rather reproachfully) By Jove, dear — 
but we are living high — Irene returns to food 
safe — is busy there) a cracker 

Irene, {facing him triumphantly) And milk — 
{turns to safe again — gets out very small bottle — 
crossing to table with it) 

Basil, {almost horrified) Milk! Cracker and 
milk — on the same day — (Irene with a medicine 
dropper dropping a drop into each glass, half filled 
with water) Isn't that rather 

Irene, {pausing to explain) But you're making 
a hundred thousand a year ! 

Basil, {gentle reproof) Still there's no use 
squandering it, is there? {happier tone. Irene is 
now seated opposite him, at table, chair L.) How- 
ever, I suppose we can treat ourselves once in a 
while — (Basil carves the cracker — serves her with 
half, then himself — they eat it with forks — she only 
tastes hers) and it is delicious, {smacking his lips, 
Reminiscently) Remember — when we were first 



8 " FOOD.** 

married we couldn't have these little luxuries — • 
{thoughtfully sad) but — you know whenever I sit 
down to a meal like this — I think of the poor — who 
can't buy proper food 

Irene, (also thoughtfully sad) Yes 

Basil. That's why we could show no mercy to 
that man to-day — You see — what made it so ter- 
rible was — that the hen was about to become a 

Irene. (getting faint again) Don't — don't 
Basil — (head sinks on table) 

Basil, (leaning over and grasping hand) Why, 
my dear child — what is the matter? (she doesn't 
answer) You must see the doctor — (Irene rises — 
crosses to behind table) I've noticed you haven't 
been yourself for some time. You haven't been 
eating well — why, look there — you've hardly touched 
your dinner 

Irene, (looks slowly at plate — turns head away-^ 
gathers up both plates — empties crumbs of cracker 
from both to platter) I'm not hungry — (crossing 
tozvard safe — pauses — turning to Basil) You 
won't mind having these for breakfast, will you, 
dear? 

Basil. No — (Irene turns to safe — puts platter 
in) but the doctor? 

Irene, (crossing back to table) Basil, I — I've 
seen the doctor — (takes plates from either side — 
puts them together) I went to-day — (takes forks 
and carvers — puts them on top of plates — crosses to 
side board) 

Basil. What did he say ? (Irene crosses to table 
for glasses — pauses at table — about to speak — • 
changes her mind) Come — come, dear — why don't 
you tell me? (Irene crosses to side board with 
glasses) 

Irene. I — I — Oh, what's the use, Basil — it— 
(crossing back to table) 

Basil. It's something serious then? 

Irene, (sinking in chair L. of table — facing him) 



•• FOOD." g 

Yes — (Basil exclaims) We — we might as well 
face it — Basil — the doctor says — I've got to eat 
another egg 

Basil, {utter dismay) Oh, my God! 

Irene, {weepingly, pleadingly) I can't help it, 
Basil — ^you — you know it isn't my fault — 

Basil, {rises, leans over table in wild pleading) 
But — oh — won't a trip to Europe do — a change of 
scene? {crossing past her l.) Anything in rea- 
son — but — (Irene sinks hack in chair, Basil 
crosses to her) Why — it's only two years ago — 
you had an egg — a whole one — I had to mortgage 
this house to get it for you — surely you can't need 
another so soon 

IftENE. I know it's terrible, but — I — {facing 
front — cold — determined) I must have it, Basil — • 

Basil, {crossing to l. in despairing anger) Oh, 
how did you ever get this accursed taste — ah — thank 
Heaven the children all starved to death. They 
might have inherited 

Irene, {springing to feet in protest) Basil! 
{he stops) That's a cruel thing to say. {crossing 
toward him at l.) I never told you how I came to 
be — this way 

Basil, {facing her in stern question) No — you 
never told me — you married me without letting me 
know you had this — this — craving for eggs — Oh, 
how could you? {crossing in sad wonder to chair 
at L. of table — seats himself, hack to her) 

Irene. Basil — {coming tozvard him) When I 
was a little" girl — my parents were very, very 
wealthy — and once — they gave me — an egg to 
taste — my brother had brought it from Europe. 
You don't know the effect the taste of an egg has 
on one — the strange feeling of happiness — that 
once felt can never be forgotten. I — I couldn't for- 
get it. The taste of that egg has been the memory 
of my waking hours, my dream, at night — some- 
times the desire for it drives me to the point of 



10 "FOOD." • 

madness — oh — don't look at me like that — I know 
I shouldn't have married you — without telling you 
of it — but — (going dozvn to him — pleading) I 
loved you, Basil 

Basil, (rises — facing her) If you had loved 
me — ^you would have told me — (turns slozvly — ■ 
measured steps — crossing from her to chair r. of 
table — where he stands with hack to her — saddened) 

Irene. (pleading zvildly) I tried — I tried 
Basil — honestly — honestly — I tried — but I couldn't 
• — and meanwhile — the desire grew 

Basil, (turns to her — over table) Oh — but I 
gave you one — I gave all I had for it 

Irene, (tenderly, in sympathy and appreciation) 
Yes, dear — I know — but it only fed the flame, of 
my longing and now IVe got to have another — I've 
got to — don't you understand — or I shall go mad — 
I can't go on like this — I've got a right to live my 
life — to have the food my nature craves — I must — I 
will have it. (she sinks to table — pounds it with 
her fists — head buried — sobs) 

Basil, (going to her and putting his arms around 
her) There, there, dear — don't excite yourself — • 
come, go to bed — you'll feel better in the morning. 

Irene. * (sitting away from his embrace — /ar- 
ing him) Then you won't — get it — for me 

Basil, (despairingly) Great Heavens — I can't — • 

Irene. (turning from him — looking fixedly 
front — cold — hard — determined) Very well — but 
I warn you, Basil — I will not answer for the con- 
sequences. 

Basil, (angry) Do you think you can threaten 
me? Ah — you could conquer this if you would. 
You have no right to expect me to gratify such 
foolish, extravagant tastes. 

Irene, (cold — fixed, as before) Very well — I've 
nothing more to say 

Basil, (back of her chair — turns to go — pauses 
back of table) Don't take it like this— Irene — 



"FOOD." II 

Heaven knows I'd do it if I could — but it's out of 
the question — Good-night — (continues toward door 
R. 3d) 

Irene, (cold and hard) You're going to bed? 

Basil, (standing at door — partly turned to her) 
Yes — I — I have a touch of indigestion — Good-night. 

(He exits r. ^d.) 

(Irene looks after him, desperate — sits a moment 
in thought — then faces front — her mouth work- 
ing, as if eating — looks back again to door of 
his exit — then toward 'phone — then to door — 
rises — goes to 'phone on table l. takes off re- 
receiver — Harold knocks at door.) 

Irene, (telephone receiver off hook, in hand) 
Come in. (Harold enter, stands inside doorway. 
Irene is startled — rises — leaves receiver off hook. 
Harold is a good looking man — in uniform. He has 
a leather case strapped to his left side, a revolver, in 
holster, at his right) Harold — 'you!! (she crosses 
backward to table r. c.) 

Harold, (about to run to her remembers duty of 
both — draws back) Irene! 

Irene. Why do you come to me — again — after 
all these years? 

Harold, (drazving himself erect — importantly) 
You see my uniform — I am an officer of the Food 
Trust 

Irene, (thought of egg — a possible way to get 
one — enters her mind) An officer — the Food Trust 1 

Harold, (cold — repressed emotion — sense of 
duty) Yes — You ordered a slice of bread — 
(she nods) I was sent to deliver it^ — (he hands her 
a small package — she takes it — puts it in food safe — 
he crosses across to table R. c, stands l., facing 
front. She comes to him, as if to reopen old 
acquaintance — he has taken receipt from cap — turns 



12 " FOOD." 

to her coldly) Pkase sign the receipt, {she takes 
it — signs — hands it hack — their hands touch — both 
are much moved — he controls himself — crosses to- 
ward L. — putting receipt in cap) 

Irene, {leaning to him — pleadingly) Wait — ■ 
Harold — don't leave me like this — you never under- 
stood 

Harold. {pauses — turns to her — stern — 
brokenly) I only know you broke my heart and 
ruined my life — when you married him — not for 
love — ^but — for — food 

Irene, {turning from him — looking front — 
brokenly) Yes — and I've been punished — The 
food I crave — he can't give me — {crosses to him. — 
leans tozvard left side of him) 

Harold, {drawing away) Be careful 

Irene, {looking toward Husband's exit door — as 
if Harold meant him) What is it? 

Harold, {solemn importance) You mustn't 
touch that.case 

Irene. Why — what does it contain? 

Harold. Hush! {looks carefully toward doors 
turns and lays cap on telephone table — crossing to 
her) An tgg 

Irene, {wondering, incredidous whisper — ) An 
egg! An e — ! 

Harold, {rushes to her — catches her in arms — 
stops her mouth with hands) Sh — I — I shouldn't 
have told you — I'm on my way to a Billionaire's 
house to deliver it. {releases her zvhile he speaks — 
crosses tozvard l.) 

Irene, {siren-like — pleading) Harold — Harold — 

Harold, {remembering his and her duty — proof 
against her wiles — bitterly) No — it's too late 

Irene, {szveetly insinuatingly) Is it too late, 
Harold? Are you so sure of that — Is there no 
spark left of the old love? 

Harold, {tottering mentally, pauses — looks at her 



•* FOOD." 13 

— brokenly) God/help me — yes — {head bowed in 
shame) 

Irene, (temptingly) You said once — that you 
would do anything in the world — if I would be 
yours 



Harold. Yes — I said that — once- 



Irene. (crossing slozvly backward to table R. c. — 
as if luring him to her) Then — I give you the 
chance to prove it — now 

Harold, (about to rush to her) You mean — that 
you will 

Irene. Yes — I'll be yours — on one condition — 

Harold, (rushing to claim her) Name it — name 
it— and I'll • 

Irene, '(at r. of table — warding him off — point' 
ing and leaning tozvard him) Wait — give me — that 

^^^ • 

Harold, (recoiling — pleadmg) What! Oh no — 

you don't mean that — you're just testing me — no — 

anything but that — Anything else in the world 

Irene, (unrelentingly — determined — leaning over 
table to him)^ Harold, give me that egg 

Harold, (drawing back- -in last, weakening ap' 
peal) My duty — I haven': the right 

Irene, (passionate pleading) The right — ah, 
what is right and wrong to us — we love each other — 
we've the right to live our lives — for each other • 

Harold. You don't realize what you're asking — 
They know I left the store-house — If I don't re- 
turn soon, they'll search and discover the truth — 
then I'll be a fugitive from justice — a hunted man — 
dishonored and disgraced 

Irene, (alluringly) And am I not worth it? 
{puts herself alluringly in front of him — they gaze 
at each other — then he ccasps her passionately in Jiis 
arms — kisses her. She s.^ozvly releases herself — her 
arm falling over him till "t touches the egg-case — - 
she is almost on her knees) Now let me see the 
egg — (after a mental struggle, he undoes the case — * 



14 "FOOD." 

first drawing his revoher and looking about carC' 
fully. She falls to knees, adoringly sways — about 
to swoon — he catches her — lifts her to her feet — she 
frees herself from his arms) Now — we must go — > 
quickly — but wait — you can't carry it in that case — • 
it would be recognized — Ha — my jewel box— 
{crosses quickly over to the side board — takes jewel 
box to table — faces Harold, expectantly — he 
hesitates with egg-case in hands, remembering duty 
— she compels him with luring smile — he brings cas& 
and lays it on table — steps back — she takes egg out 
carefully — gases at it — about to put it in case — sees 
jewels fill it — flings them out — puts egg in — closes 
lid — Basil enters quickly, r. ^d — Irene and 
Harold start and exclaim — she moves away from 
table — eyes on box — leaves box on table) Why, 
Basil — I thought you'd retired 

(Basil, zvithout speaking, moves to table — seizes 
jewel box — opens — seizes egg and holds it up, 
Irene shrieks — Harold draws pistol.) 

Basil. Shoot — and watch it fall ■ 

(Harold's pistol drops to floor.) 

Irene, (timidly — wonderingly) Basil — how did 
you know? 

Basil. The 'phone — you left the receiver off — I 
heard — everything — (Irene sinks into chair l. of 
table with moan. Basil crosses beside Harold — • 
stands back of small rug) So she has brought you 
— to this — very well — you can go — but — ^you will 
leave the egg — behind 

(Harold starts — cries out.) 

Irene, (springing to her feet — in protest — Basil 
draws egg, protectingly to him) No — no — Basil—? 



« FOOD." IS 

you won't do that — ^you can't be so cruel 

Basil, {lozvering arm from above head — gazing at 
egg, in hollozv of hand) And this is the price of 
honor — {zvith an hysterical laugh — his face changes 
to a fixed purpose) 

Irene, {horrified wonder) What — what are you 
going to do — Basil — Basil — Ah — ! {shrieks as 
Basil dashes the egg to the floor — on the little rug 
at his feet. She sinks to her knees over it. Harold 
staggers hack, powerless from horror) 

Harold. Murderer — {crossing to Basil) 
Through all your life you'll see that horrible sight — 
That little tgg lying there crushed and mangled, 
wasted — by your hand — Thank God I haven't got 
that to face 

(Basil turns up stage, overcome with zvhat he has 
done. Harold turns as if to go.) 

Irene. Harold where are you going? 

Harold, {turning at the door) To give myself 

up 

Irene. But it means death! 
Harold. Yes — Good-bye 



(Exits as if to Guillotine — Pause — door slams.) 

Irene, {reaching out to touch Basil) Basil 

Basil, {recoiling from her with loathing) There 
can be nothing more between you and me • 

Irene. You mean? 

Basil. You have betrayed me for an tgg-^ 
{crossing r. to table) 

Irene. Basil 

Basil, {points " Go." Irene turns, sees egg on 
rug, glances back to Basil, stealthily rolls the rug 
up and starts to escape zvith it) Irene! Have you 
no shame — You would take it — now ! 

Irene. Yes — it's all I've got left now — {he turns 



i6 ' •*FOOD." 

from her) They gave it to me when I was young- 
Basil — when I was young. 

(Basil points to the door, and she exits weeping. 
The door outside slams and he sinks on his 
' knees by the table, shaken by silent sorrow,) 



CURTAIN. 



THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY. 

The famous comedy in three acts, by Anne Warner. 7 males, 
females. Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2% hours. 

This is a genuinely funny comedy with splendid parts for "Aunt Mary," 
"Jack," her lively nephew; "Lucinda," a New England ancient maid of all work; 
"Jack's" three chums; the Girl "Jack" loves; "Joshua," Aunt Mary's hired 
man, etc. 

"Aunt Mary" was played by May Robson in New York and on tour for over 
two years, and it is sure to be a big ^success wherever produced. We strongly 
recommend it. Price, 60 Cents 

MRS. BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. 

A pleasing comedy, in three acts, by Harry James Smith, author of 
"The Tailor-Made Man." 6 males, 6 females. One interior scene. Cos- 
tumes modern. Plays 2% hours. 

Mr. Smith chose for" his initial comedy the complications arising from the 
endeavors of a social climber to land herself in the altitude peopled by hyphenated 
names— a theme permitting innumerable complications, according to the spirit of 
the writer. 

This most successful comedy was toured for several seasons by Mrs. Fiske 
with enormous success. Price, 60 Cents. 

MRS. TEMPLE'S TELEGRAM. 

A most successful farce in three acts, by Frank Wyatt and William 
Morris. 5 males, 4 females. One interior scene stands throughout the 
three acts. Costumes modern. Plays 2^ hours. 

"Mrs. Temple's Telegram" is a sprightly farce in which there is an abund- 
ance of fun without any taint of impropriety or any element of oflfence. As 
noticed by Sir Walter Scott, "Oh, what a tangled web we weave whe« first we 
practice to deceive!" 

There is not a dull moment in the entire farce, and from the time the curtain 
rises until it makes the final drop the fun is fast and furious. A very exceptional 
farce. .Price, 60 Cents. 

THE NEW CO-ED. 

A comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of "Tempest and 

Sunshine," etc. Characters, 4 males, 7 females, though any number of 

: boys and girls can be introduced in the action of the play. One interior 

I and one exterior scene, but can be easily played in one interior scene. 

. Costumes modern. Time, about 2 hours. 

The theme of this play is the coming of a new student to the college, her 
reception by the ^scholars, her trials and final triumph. 

There are thr^e especially good girls' parts, Letty, Madge and Estelle. but 
1 the others have plenty to do. "Punch" Doolittle and George Washington Watts, 
a gentleman of color, are two particularly good comedy characters. We can 
I strongly recommend "The New Co-Ed" to high schools and amateurs. 

Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 




DOROTHY'S NEIGHBORS. 

A brand new comedy in four ? ///////////;i/;////m^^ ^O^GRe^S *^ '"^^^ 

The story is about vocational training, a suujc<.v - ^ I ^Jsed; also, 

the distribution of large wealth. 

Bick of the comedy situation and snappy dialogue there is good logic and 
a sound moral in this pretty play, which is worthy the attention of the experi- 
enced amateur. It is a clean, wholesome play, particularly suited to high school 
production. Price, 30 Cents. 



MISS SOMEBODY ELSE. 

A modem play in four acts by Marion Short, author of "The Touch- 
down," etc. 6 males, 10 females. Two interior scenes. Costumes mod- 
ern. 

This delightful comedy has gripping dramatic moments, unusual character 
types, a striking and original plot and is essentially modern in theme and treat- 
ment. The story concerns the adventures of Constance Darcy, a multi-million- 
aire's young daughter. Constance embarks on a trip to find a young man who 
had been in her father's employ and had' stolen a large sum of money. She 
almost succeeds, when suddenly all traces of the young man are lost. At this 
point she meets some old friends who are living in «lmost want and, in order to 
assist them through motives benevolent, she determines to sink her own aristo- 
cratic personality in that of a refined but humble little Irish waitress with th.^ 
family that are in want. She not only carries her scheme to success in assistinjg. 
the family, but finds romance and much tense and lively adventure during the: 
period of her incognito, aside from capturing the young man who had defrauded, 
her father. The story is full of bright comedy lines and dramatic situations and^ 
is highly recommended for amateur production. This is one of the best come- 
dies we have ever offered with a large number of female characters. The dialogue 
is brieht and the play is full of action from start to finish; not a dull moment in 
it. This is a great comedy for high schools and colleges, and the wholesome 
story will please the parents and teachers. We strongly recommend it. 

Price, 30 Cents. 



PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

An exceptionally pretty comedy of Puritan New England, in three 
acts, by Amita B. Fairgrieve and Helena Miller. 9 male, 5 female char-- 
acters. 

This is the Lend A Hand Smith College prize play. It is an admirable play, 
for amateurs, is rich in character portrayal of varied types and is not too difficult 
while thoroughly pleasing. Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 



